


Summer Sunday

by LavedaVida



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courferre Week, M/M, a farmer's market au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavedaVida/pseuds/LavedaVida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Courfeyrac have adjacent booths at the Musain Market. They're also maybe a little bit head-over-heels for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Sunday

Combeferre was rearranging his carrots when he heard the voice next to him. “Reject pastries? My treat.”

He turned, a smile blossoming across his face as he spotted the speaker. Courfeyrac, the gorgeous young baker from the little pastry shop that set up camp next to him at the market every week, was grinning and holding out a cardboard box.

“Thanks,” Combeferre said, grabbing a mangled cherry croissant and taking a bite. “They’re certainly good, even if they aren’t up to your standards.”

“Eh, it makes me glad that I can bring them along for everyone else who has to be here at an ungodly hour,” Coufeyrac said, “and not feel bad about giving them free food. No way would my boss let me sell these, so I might as well give them to people I like, rather than rude, grumpy farmer’s market customers.”

Combeferre laughed. “I take it you’re still holding a grudge against that guy who screamed at you last week?”

It had been a nasty affair—Courfeyrac hadn’t been quite fast enough putting a cheese Danish in its bag, and his customer had gone off at him for five solid minutes, and then stormed off without paying. Combeferre had actually ended up leaving one of his associates to tend their booth, and drawn Courfeyrac away (leaving Marius in charge of his stall) to comfort him after the fact. He’d been so worked up about it that he could hardly work, so Combeferre had pulled him away to go find some pizza and cool down.

Courfeyrac scowled. “Yeah.”

Combeferre sighed. “It happens to the best of us, Courf.”

“I know, it’s just—it bothers me that they think that they can just walk all over us.”

Combeferre nodded, and peered down the row, taking a thoughtful bite of his croissant. “Today will be better,” he said. “Tensions aren’t running so high, it’s the first real summer Sunday, it’ll be a good day, I think. Just chill, eat a few pastries, drink lots of coffee, and keep your chin up.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Easier said than done, some days.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a gorgeous day. You know that you can’t be grumpy on gorgeous days, it’s against your nature.”

Courfeyrac laughed. It was true enough, he always did brighten up during the sunny days of the year. He leaned against the table holding the lettuce, and gave Combeferre a blinding smile. “It’s true, it’s true. Plus, we always get good business on the sunny days, and I can never find fault with good business, even if I do get yelled at a bit.”

“You should set Enjolras on them, if they yell at you too much,” Combeferre suggested. Enjolras, who ran a ‘karma café’ down their row, was notorious for his shouting matches with rude customers. Of course, that never really helped out the whole idea of the ‘pay what you think they deserve’ idea of a karma café, but Enjolras’ boss had yet to fire him. “Or maybe just send them down to Cosette and she’ll sweet-talk them into buying over-priced flowers.”

“Nah, Cosette’s too nice for those assholes. I’d send them down to Enjolras or Bahorel, before I sent them to her.”

Combeferre laughed. “True.”

Courf smiled at Combeferre, and Ferre felt his chest tighten. He already knew full-well that he had a crush on Courfeyrac, but it was always still a bit of a surprise to feel his chest tighten like that. As a self-identifying gray-homo-asexual and romantic, he rarely felt such pangs when it came to others, but this smiling curly-haired baker had certainly wormed his way into his heart.

“Courf?” Marius’ voice carried over from the next booth, and Courf gave Combeferre a regretful smile. “I should go see what he wants. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said. He watched Courfeyrac go, a soft smile on his face.

“You ever gonna ask him out?”

Combeferre jumped, turning to see Enjolras leaning against the far wall of the booth. “Shut up,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“You say that as if you don’t spend ridiculous amounts of time texting me about his smile and his hair and his reject pastries.”

Combeferre blushed. It had become sort of a tradition for Courfeyrac to bring the rejected pastries, and he always brought one to Combeferre first.

“Shut up,” he said again, and Enjolras laughed.

“You could just try,” he suggested. “Something tells me he wouldn’t say no.”

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Combeferre said, slumping onto the stool that sat behind the counter. “I don’t think I could bear it if I asked him out and he said no.”

Enjolras sighed. “You’re both idiots,” he said, matter-of-factly, and then turned and disappeared around the wall of the booth.

 

~~~

 

The day was only half-over when Courfeyrac wandered into Combeferre’s stall, slipping behind the table to stand next to his friend. “What’re you doing here?” Combeferre asked, reaching over the table to adjust a couple of heads of lettuce that were slipping out of their bin.

“We sold out,” Courfeyrac said, with a shrug. “There’s not really anything for us to do, now, except wait out the rest of the day. We always underestimate for the first few sunny days, we need to bring fewer goods in the winter than in the summer, and the switch always catches us by surprise.”

Combeferre nodded. “That’ll be $9.95, ma’am,” he said, absentmindedly bagging up a couple of carrots and two yams for a smiling young woman.

Courfeyrac dropped himself onto the extra stool—Combeferre’s colleague had gone off a few minutes before to get some lunch.

“So,” he said, glancing over at Combeferre. “How’s business today?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Better than usual,” he said. “Of course, the summer months always are.” He stretched. “And clearly things are going well for you, since you sold out.”

Courfeyrac made a face. “I’m just annoyed we didn’t think to check the weather, or we would’ve had enough to last us another hour, at least.”

“Ah well, at least you can tell your boss that business went well for the day.”

“Very true,” Courfeyrac said. He rubbed a hand across his face, watching as Combeferre turned to a customer and explained to him about the different types of lettuce on the table in front of him.

Courfeyrac stayed in the stall for another fifteen minutes, until Combeferre’s colleague returned. “Hey, man, if you want to take your lunch break now, feel free. I can man the booth for a while,” said the colleague. Courfeyrac thought he must be new—he’d never seen the man before, and he was sure that he knew everyone who worked at Moth Light Farm.

“You sure you’ve got it?” Combeferre asked. He glanced at Courfeyrac, a silent Lunch? question lighting his eyes. Courfeyrac smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. You go get some lunch,” said the other guy, and Combeferre stood.

“We’ll—I mean, I’ll be back soon,” he said.

Courf smiled. “Pizza?” he asked, as they slipped out from behind the table.

“Sounds like a plan,” Combeferre said, nodding. They bumped shoulders as they walked, and Courfeyrac couldn’t help but wonder if Combeferre wanted this to be a date as much as he did.

They collected their pizza from Bahorel and Feuilly’s stand, nodding to their friends, and went to find a curb to sit down on. Courfeyrac kept sneaking glances over at Combeferre, and once or twice he caught the other man doing the same thing.

“So, who’s the new guy?” Courfeyrac asked. “I thought I knew everyone who worked at the farm.”

Combeferre sighed. “Alicia was supposed to come with me today, but she was out sick, and so I took Jason instead. He’s a fairly new hire, and I like him well enough, but he’s never run the stand before. I’ll probably have to cut this shorter than usual, to go back and make sure that he’s doing okay.”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Hey, don’t worry, I understand.”

They fell silent, watching the people who walked past. Courfeyrac noted with a smile that several of them had ducked into Jehan’s booth for tarot readings. After a few minutes, Combeferre checked his watch regretfully. “I have to get back,” he said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Courfeyrac said, nodding, trying to ignore the stab of sadness that went through his heart. “I should probably get back to Marius, anyway. But I’ll see you before we pack up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said, his face lighting up at the prospect. “I’d really like that.”

“Good—I mean, me too. I’ll uh. I’ll walk you back to your stall then?”

Combeferre ducked his head, grinning. “Sure,” he said.

They stood, and Courfeyrac couldn’t help but feel almost as if Combeferre wanted this to be a date as much as he did. They walked to their stalls together, and their hands brushed as they walked, Courfeyrac blushing furiously each time that it happened. Combeferre didn’t look much better off.

“Well, uh—this is me,” Courfeyrac said when they reached his stall, as if he and Combeferre hadn’t had adjacent booths at the market for the last two years. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said. “I’ll see you later.”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other, before Marius cleared his throat from behind the table, and Courfeyrac jumped. Combeferre offered him one more smile, and then continued on, ducking into his own booth.

“You two are beyond ridiculous,” Marius said, rolling his eyes. “Anyone with half a brain can see that you two like each other. Why don’t you just ask him out, already?”

“Says the guy who hasn’t had the courage to ask out Cosette yet,” Courfeyrac muttered.

Marius blushed. “Okay, fine,” he said. “But you’ve known Combeferre forever. I mean, you two were part of the whole reason that the Musain farmer’s market even opened in the first place. You two and Enjolras and everyone. I only joined a few months ago, but you two have known each other for years.”

Courfeyrac said nothing, but straightened the table cloth a little bit, his thoughts racing.

“Well, if you’re not going to say anything, then I’m going to go get lunch,” said Marius, with a sigh. “But think about it, Courfeyrac. You’re not doing yourself any favors by not asking him out, already.”

Courfeyrac watched Marius go. A moment later, he tugged on the table cloth once again, his mind made up.

 

~~~

 

The market was starting to pack up, by the time that Courfeyrac and Combeferre saw each other again. Courf and Marius were just about packed up, their tent taken down, and Courfeyrac ducked into Combeferre’s booth while Marius loaded up their truck.

“Hey Combeferre? Could I have a word?”

Combeferre murmured something to Jason, and then nodded, slipping out from behind the table.

Courfeyrac glanced around, and then back up at Combeferre. “So… I kind of have something to ask you?”

Combeferre’s breath caught in his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, trying to look casual.

“I was… I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out on a date? With me? I mean, I know we have lunch dates every market day, but I was thinking that—maybe we could do something a bit more than that, and, and—“

“Yes, yes of course,” Combeferre said, smiling. “I would love that. I would more than love that. I’ve kind of been wanting to ask you the same thing for months now.”

Courfeyrac’s smile was blinding. “Really? Oh my god, okay, yes. Yes. You said yes. Okay. Oh my god.”

“Courf, you’re babbling,” Combeferre said, gently.

“Am I? I babble when I’m happy, Marius says it’s one of my fatal flaws, and—“

“Hey Courf?”

“Huh?”

“Could I maybe kiss you now?”

Courfeyrac stopped talking, his mouth hanging open. He quickly shut it, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you could—you could do that. You could definitely do that.” Courf stopped, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he realized he’d been babbling again. Combeferre smiled at him, and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Oh,” breathed Courfeyrac, his eyes wide, as they separated. “Oh,” he repeated again, pressing his fingers to his lips.

“I take it that wasn’t horrible?”

“Nope,” squeaked out Courfeyrac. “Definitely not horrible. So very not horrible.”

Combeferre laughed. “So about that date…”

“Yeah?”

“How does tomorrow night sound? There’s a new Italian place in town I’ve been meaning to try, and then maybe we could go see a movie or something?”

“Tomorrow night sounds great,” Courfeyrac said, smiling at Combeferre. “Perfect, in fact.”

“Good,” Combeferre said. He glanced back to where Jason was packing up. “I should—“

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said. “Me too.”

“One more kiss?”

Courfeyrac grinned, and pressed his lips against Combeferre’s. “One more kiss,” he confirmed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://www.the-strangest-sea.tumblr.com).


End file.
